Warehouse
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Sherlock's POV as he watches Moriarty play out the final part of his game. This time Molly's got a staring role. (rating for language)


_Here's a tiny little ficlet. It's angsty. I wrote it the night I got a narsty guest review on this site. Look, I don't expect everyone to enjoy my writing... not by a long shot. But let's keep it civil, shall we? I'm a pretty chill girl but there's no need for hate!_

 _Thanking Mizjoley for betaing this one._

 _I own nothing... not Sherlock or Warehouse._

 _Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

Sherlock stands looking at the scene in front of him. He'd thought he'd known fear before – the case on the Moors, the sight of the pavement rising to meet him the day of his Fall – but now he knows he was wrong. This is fear.

 _No, not this... no._

She sits bound and gagged, uttering not a sound- not even a whimper, but trembling ever so slightly. Her clothes dirty and torn, bloodied. _Her_ blood.

He'd thought he had it all figured out. He'd played the game to the bitter end. But of course... _Molly_. How is it that Jim had seen what Sherlock hadn't even acknowledged?

Why couldn't she have just stayed one in a million? Why couldn't she have just slipped into the crowd?

Silent tears pour out of her eyes as Jim says not to worry, that Molly's an angel, surely she'll go to heaven when she dies. She stares at Sherlock as her captor starts shouting his demands. She barely flinches. Suddenly and without warning Jim rips the gag out of her mouth. It must hurt, because she grunts in pain. He gets in her face and screams for her to speak; to tell Sherlock what she's supposed to say. She says nothing, just smiles and shakes her head.

Jim rants, waving his gun carelessly. Molly's eyes don't leave Sherlock's. And he knows, of course he knows, if these are to be her last moments on this earth, she wants to spend them looking at him, not the psychopathic killer who abducted her, beat her, cut her and...

 _Oh God, did he?_

The nonverbal communication is unnerving. Molly simply shakes her head, and Sherlock breathes a quick sigh of relief. But all of this has been nothing but a distraction, and Moriarty is still pointing a gun at his pathologist.

The game is over, Jim screams. He says that he won, that he's found Sherlock's heart.

And Molly Hooper just smiles as if she's actually happy. She seems genuinely happy about the turn of events. It's enough to cause Sherlock's chest to constrict and he wonders, for a moment, if he's having a cardiac event. Wouldn't that be fitting?

Jim's still stalling. _Why?_ Sherlock wonders, that's his job. _Oh, yes_ , he thinks. _Dear Jim and his theatrics_. Sherlock realises Jim's waiting for a big display. He's practically gagging for it. It's why he wants Molly to speak. It's also why his brilliant pathologist hasn't said a word.

Jim's rage is building to monumental levels, so Sherlock decides to make it a little worse. He knows he can make the little arsehole slip up if he can just push him a bit further...

But the chance never comes.

Because just as Sherlock is about to tell Jim that he got it all wrong, that he chose the wrong target, possibly hurting Molly in the short term but saving her life in the process, Hell fire rains down upon the warehouse in the form of fifteen members of Mycroft's special forces.

James Moriarty is dead before his worthless body hits the warehouse floor.

Sherlock rushes forward and starts checking Molly for injuries. She's still smiling. _How is she still smiling?_ he wonders as a medic comes to remove the ropes that have cut into her tiny wrists and ankles.

Sherlock asks her where she's hurt, what did Jim do to her? She just shakes her head and says that she's fine. _And she's still fucking smiling_. Finally, as the agents are dragging Moriarty's body away Sherlock asks her why, why is she so happy? And she laughs and says that it's just so funny that Jim got it all wrong. She's crying and laughing at the same time. Can you believe it, she says to him. She says that she'd tried to tell him that he'd picked the wrong person. She laughs some more and calls Jim an idiot.

That's when the pain in Sherlock's chest worsens and he takes Molly's face in his hands. "Oh God Molly, he got it right. Jim wasn't an idiot," he says. "I am."

Her laughter stops as do her tears. "No," she whispers. "You- you d-don't..."

He puts his forehead against hers. "I do."

Her injured arms are limp in her lap and he wants them wrapped around him so badly it's killing him. "Molly, I'm so, so sorry. I've been a coward," he says as he pulls back.

She shakes her head. "You're the bravest man I know."

"Not entirely."

The agents footsteps echo in the nearly empty space as he waits for her to say something- anything. The longer it takes for her to respond, the more fear wells in him. He looks down and sees drops of her blood on the floor from the cuts on her arms. He looks at her damaged wrists and bruised face and suddenly he can't take it anymore. She nearly died today and he never told her how much he...

"I can't live without you, Molly Hooper," he gasps out, overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotion.

She brings her tiny hands up to his face. "Well, then don't," she says before kissing him softly, cautiously.

She tries to protest when he picks her up and carries her out of the warehouse, but he ignores her. All he really cares about at that moment is getting her out of that damned place, and never looking back.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think._

 _Have a safe and Happy New Year_

 _~Lil~_


End file.
